Peace
by WinchestersForever
Summary: "But there times, devastating times, when his fractured self broke so completely that no amount of passive indifference could hold the pieces together. Johnny was having one of those days." subtle JohnnyxDally


**Well, it's definitely been a while since I last posted! This is an old story that I recently revised and it didn't turn out half bad so I wanted to share it with everyone. Drop a review and tell me what you think! **

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><p>Johnny didn't believe in the calm before the storm. In his life, the peace only came after, for just a few blessed hours before another raged again. For Johnny Cade these times were far and few in between; if it wasn't a beating from the Socs who stalked the streets, it was the torrent of harsh words and blows from this parents that afflicted his existence. Peace was a foreign concept to him.<p>

Not a lot of good came to Johnny, so when he could find small solaces, he enjoyed them, let them lift his bowed head if only for a while so his soul could see there was still hope for others if not for himself. Johnny's hope came from his friends and the vacant lot that seemed to share the same lonely sorrow he felt deep inside. If not to one he went to the other, for each offered him something different. From the lot, the silence and escape he desperately needed; from his friends, the human contact and affection he craved.

Although any member of the gang would gladly take his hand and give him that, it was Ponyboy who followed Johnny's path with the least resistance. It was always Pony who sat quietly under the gazing stars with him, who understood Johnny's every action, every expression without having to be told. He was a good bud, that Ponyboy, the best friend he had ever had. But sometimes Johnny needed someone stronger than himself to push it all away. Not someone to tell him that everything would be okay—because they all somehow know that it wouldn't be—but one who could shield him until he was strong enough to deal with it.

Johnny needed Dally.

Dallas Winston was the toughest stud Johnny ever knew. Towheaded and stubborn, he defied the world with a sneering smirk and unabashed disobedience. Johnny knew he could never be like him, could never be as strong. But people felt one of two things when they stood in Dally's presence: fear or pride. If you were Dally's bud it made you proud to stand beside him. It made you feel like you could fight the world, too.

Mostly Johnny was able to deal with things pretty okay. Life goes on, shit happens—he couldn't control it. There was no using fighting; to fight only made it harder when he failed. So Johnny let things go as they went because it was only a bigger defeat when he fought and lost. But there times, devastating times, when his fractured self broke so completely that no amount of passive indifference could hold the pieces together.

Johnny was having one of those days.

Usually Ponyboy was the most adapt at reading people and how they felt, but that day not even oblivious Steve could overlook the deep sadness infecting Johnny Cade's being. It was so profound that the rest of the gang was struck into an uncertain silence. What could they do, what could they say to hold their friend together? They had all been dealt their fair share of sadness, but the factor in them that Johnny lacked always pulled them through to see another day.

"What do we do about Johnny?" Ponyboy fretted, sitting close to Sodapop on the couch in the Curtis home.

Darry stood with his calming authority in the doorway to the kitchen, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. "There's nothing we c_an_ do. We just gotta watch him and let him find his own way through. Now I wanna help the kid just as much as you do," he said through Ponyboy's protests, "but we all know who Johnny really needs and he ain't here now, so we just gotta deal."

"Yeah, where is ole Dal anyway?" Two-Bit wondered.

"Ain't seen him for a week. Probably holed up with Shepard somewhere, lying low from the bulls."

"Hell, maybe that's why Johnny's feelin' so down," Soda speculated.

"We oughta go look for him. Johnny's in a bad way—"

"Don't bother Dally." Johnny's voice in the doorway startled them all; he hadn't been there a second ago. "I'll be all right. Just need to clear my head is all."

They all looked guilty at having been caught talking about him. Darry touched the boy's shoulder, worry evident in his features. "Come on now, Johnnycake. Maybe Dally—"

"I said no, all right?" Johnny exploded, shaking him off. "What can Dally do to help me—what can _any_body do for that matter? Anyway, Dally doesn't care what happens to me or anyone else. I'll let him and all you guys go get your jollies so you ain't gotta worry about me no more."

He was gone before any of them could think of something to say to stop him. Half a block later Johnny knew he was being silly exploding at his buddies like that, but he had forever known the feeling that came from the burden of someone else's hurt; he didn't want to burden his friends with his. Besides, he was so tired of being the one who was always taken care of—he was tired of _needing_ to be taken care of.

But being tired of something doesn't take it away. And the feelings of hurt and frustration were wearing Johnny so down that he didn't think he could stand to see another sad day. He thought maybe he should just get it over with. He didn't like waiting and cowering for the next beating, for the final blow. And suddenly he thought, why should he?

What is the point of living if you live in fear?

There isn't one. So why should he live? If the fear wasn't going away, why wait for death when he could just end it?

The thought was snatched back as soon as it was processed. Johnny knew he would never kill himself; it was just wasn't possible. Because to take his own life would mean the murder of the hope he gave to the gang and he loved them more than he could ever love himself; he would never destroy their spirit like the world had destroyed his.

Johnny's wandering feet took him to the Dairy Queen as twilight descended upon the town. Like a drifting phantasm he crossed the parking lot and sat himself at one of the lunch tables. June bugs and moths buzzed and fluttered around the bright neon lights above him. Greasers and their girls milled around their cars, sitting on hoods and leaning in windows, waiting for their orders to be brought out. Johnny watched them all making the most of their troubled existence and wondered why he couldn't. What was so different about him that he couldn't suck it up and accept things as they were?

Johnny eyed the parking lot, contemplating the question for several long minutes. He attracted the attention of a punk in a brown leather jacket with his arm slung around a Greaser girl in an outfit that would make a mother blush. Normally Johnny would have adverted his gaze skittishly and hunched his shoulders, making himself small so the interest wouldn't last. But tonight he simply stared, his mind vaguely piecing together the differences between him and this hoodlum who was so like Dally in his ugly defiance that it made Johnny's head spin. Why couldn't he be like that? Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even look away when the hood peeled himself from the girl and sauntered over with a sneer.

"You got a problem or somethin'? Hey freak, I'm talkin' to you!" He gave Johnny's shoulder a shove, almost knocking him from the bench.

Johnny blinked out of his reverie and looked up.

"I see you over here eying my girl and I don't appreciate it, you little shit."

Johnny didn't deign to respond. He went back to brooding his existence and almost forgot the boy until the second shove succeeded in landing him flat on his back, his legs tangling with the bench. He made no effort to move as a crowd gathered, drawn by the hood's insistent bullying. Jeers were directed at both Johnny and Leather Jacket as Johnny continued to lie there against the pavement. His antagonist didn't like to be ignored and hauled him roughly to his feet.

Johnny didn't lift a finger as he was jostled by the hood in the leather jacket. Why put off the inevitable? His next beating had come to him and he was almost relieved that the wait was over. Sometimes the period in between, as he cringed and cowered and waited, was much worse.

The last violent shove thrust Johnny into the waiting arms of one of Leather Jacket's buddies; his arms were locked his back in a painful vice as Leather Jacket came close, towering over him with a mouth twisted with anger.

"You had it coming, you Grease. I'm gonna kick your ass now so maybe you'll learn to keep your eyes to yourself later!"

He drew back a fist but a voice stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Johnny's ears perked in recognition of the lazy drawl and opened his eyes to see Tim Shepard standing before them.

The hood turned to face him, fist still poised to smash into Johnny's face. "Oh yeah? And why not?"

"'Cause if anybody makes a move on him they answer to me."

Dallas Winston had appeared from the crowd, standing coolly against the crowd at his back. He flicked open a zippo lighter and calmly lit a cigarette, looking tuff as he took a nonchalant drag and blew the smoke carelessly from his mouth.

Leather Jacket took a step back and faltered beneath Dally's cold glare. He bristled at the challenge, but the Winston's kid rap was well-known and he didn't dare go up against that. He let his fist fall slowly, and as he backed down Dally's eyes flickered to Johnny. Warmth flooded the boy beneath his hero's gaze.

And suddenly Johnny was terribly afraid. As the thugs released him and the crowd around him parted, he realized how very close he had come to doing the very thing he thought he would never do. Because sitting back and letting bad things happen to him was the same as giving up on life and ending it. An indirect suicide. A murdered hope. What would happen to the gang, to Ponyboy, even to _Dally_, if Johnny died?

The possibilities completely shook him. And, as he stumbled beneath the weight of this revelation to Dally's side, he thought maybe the thought had occurred to Dallas Winston, too. He griped a cool hand on the back of Johnny's neck as if he couldn't resist touching him after such a close call; Johnny could feel the slight tremble that shook him. But to the remaining onlookers Dallas was cold, hard, and unrelenting. His piercing blue eyes penetrated all who dared to meet them and his body never lost its casual, nonchalant stance. With a parting glare he flicked his burning cigarette at the deflated hoodlum who had threatened his friend; it tumbled down his scarred leather jacket to land in a burned out fury at his feet.

And then with Johnny at his side Dally turned his back on the group and walked away, outwardly untroubled as he sauntered past the teenagers and their cars and the Shepard gang who watched his back. Johnny, the picture of a reprimanded child with his shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep in his pockets, hurried to keep up with him, head whirling with the events that had just passed.

As soon as the bright lights from the Dairy Queen were behind them and out of sight, his troubled thoughts broke the silent dam within Johnny. "Dal—" he choked out around a throat closed with emotion, catching Dally's sleeve.

Dally's cold heart bled out a rush of emotions, flooding him with warm relief and more than a little frustration. He pulled Johnny into a rough embrace, holding the slight, shaking boy to his chest. "You almost got your ass handed to you back there, you punk! What would you have done if I hadn't showed up, huh? And why the hell didn't you take a swing at him, you goddamn punk—"

Johnny squeezed back hard and the two of them stood in a long embrace on the sidewalk, their forms highlighted and then shadowed by passing headlights. The steady reassurance from the other finally calmed them and Dally gave Johnny a gentle push away from him, reaching out to ruffle the kid's greasy hair.

"All right now, get offa me," he grinned a rare affectionate grin, straightening his jacket with a sharp jerk. "You okay, kid?"

"For now. Thanks for helping me out back there, Dally. How'd you know where to find me anyhow?"

Dally lit another cigarette and took a long drag. "Pony," he exhaled, the name coming out in a breath of smoke. "He actually came to Shepard's place looking for me."

"I told them not to bother ya, Dal," Johnny said quickly. "Were you havin' a party or somethin'?"

Dally gave him a strange look and ignored the question. "Yeah, Ponyboy told me that, too. I don't mind lookin' after ya, Johnny. Why didn't you tell me you were in trouble?"

Johnny's downcast eyes shot up to meet his. "Why?" he blurted. "Why does anybody wanna make sure I'm okay? I'm not okay—I'm _never_ okay—nothing ever changes, so why keep trying?"

"Cuz I—I care about you, man. I can't just _stop_ trying or caring because _you're the only one._ I mean, you and Pony, you're so damn soft and good...I'm a good for nuthin' as it is, but taking care of you, makin' sure you're doing all right-that gives me a purpose. Now I don't know why it's you and not him or anyone else, but it is and I can't let that get taken from me!"

Johnny was startled by the earnest distress Dally delivered with his speech. "All right, Dally," he said in a strangled voice, blinking rapidly.

Dally seemed to come back to himself then. Though the darkness around them was quickly growing, Johnny could see him shifting uncomfortably and looking at his feet. Regaining his composure, he flung a lazy arm around Johnny's shoulders and turned them toward home in an awkward shuffle. "Come on, let's get outta here before someone comes along and kicks _both_ our asses for being so soft!"

It was there, walking down the sidewalk in the warm air of a summer night beneath the reassuring weight of Dally's arm wrapped around him, that Johnny Cade finally found his peace.

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><p><strong>I adore Johnny and Dally. I have a few other stories about them that I'd like to post when I have the time. In the meantime, tell me what you thought of this one and maybe something you'd like to see in the future =]<strong>


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